


Topped Off

by KrysMcScience



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcoholism, At least Raditz and Nappa show up this time, Awkwardness, Canon-typical violence (nothing graphic), Drunk virgins, Dubious Consent, Freeza is worse, Fucked-Up Families, Just kidding that doesn't help, Long as shit, M/M, MAYBE fuck-or-die (???), Possible affection kink?, Probably weird drunken affection, Rimming (just gonna throw that onto the end here), Self-inflicted coercion, TAGS ARE WEIRD OKAY?!, Unwitting sexual harassment, Vegeta is an absolute wreck, What-if Scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysMcScience/pseuds/KrysMcScience
Summary: Vegeta had been on the brink of success, and so certain that everything he'd planned was going perfectly. It might have all worked out...if only a brief interruption and a new bottle of booze hadn't changed everything.(Plot divergence of 'Bottom of the Glass'.)





	Topped Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lesleytonyb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesleytonyb/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bottom of the Glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916562) by [KrysMcScience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysMcScience/pseuds/KrysMcScience). 



> Before we even get started: **You do NOT need to have read the original fic to understand this one, but it WOULD help to put some things into much better context.**
> 
> Okay, and now that _that's_ out of the way...
> 
> Helped along by how unexpectedly sociable (and almost weirdly supportive) Freeza can be in the latest games, I was inspired to do a 'What if-?' scenario for 'Bottom of the Glass' by a fun comment I received on it. The reader in question posed something along the lines of how, as a hopeless romantic, they'd hoped for Vegeta to 'realize his feelings' for Freeza. And while this _new_ scenario has nothing of the sort, unless those feelings are 'still hate and basically nothing else', the combination of games and comment still made me want to write more, anyway. So, that's...something? I'm not sure what, though. Other than an excuse to write more awkwardness. And rare-pair smut. Rare-pair smut with similar but starkly contrasting descriptions from the original scene, because reflective dichotomy is how I jive, apparently. Did I mention rare-pair smut? Cuz there's a lot of that.
> 
> Warnings, in case you missed the tags: Drunk virgins, dubious consent, alcoholism, awkwardness, rimming, probably weird drunken affection, _possible_ affection kink, self-inflicted coercion, unwitting sexual harassment, maybe fuck or die scenario (?), fucked up families, briefly mentioned child neglect/endangerment that's so brief I forgot to tag it, long as SHIT, and – due to its connection to 'Bottom of the Glass' – mentioned/implied manipulation, mind games, scheming, verbal harrassment, and physical abuse. Also, Nappa and Raditz actually show up for once. It warrants a warning because I think it's funny. (Hope you all don't mind that I took creative liberties with Raditz, by the way. For being Goku's brother, he sure is a SUPER MINOR character.)

Topped Off

It shouldn't surprise Vegeta when all his careful planning unravels at the very end. He's spent months walking on eggshells, learning where and when Freeza's most vulnerable moments are, and using those moments to his advantage. He can't _kill_ Freeza in those moments – not that Vegeta wants to, there'd be no skill or honor in that victory – but he _can_ secure his way into the higher ranks, ranks Freeza knows he would have already achieved if he wasn't Saiyan.

All it takes is being able to cope with whatever physical abuse Freeza might dish out, the tyrant too far gone to alcohol to think better of it, and sitting through his half-sincere words of repentance afterwards. If it nets the prince what he wants in exchange for his silence and continued grudging loyalty, Vegeta is willing to suffer through just about anything. He _needs_ to get stronger, needs the clearance level of a high rank to ensure that he _gets_ stronger, so he also needs Freeza cooperative – in some form or another – to open the doors of opportunity for him.

And the only way to do that is to prey on his lord's few vulnerabilities.

It _has_ gotten harder to take advantage of the lizard's key weakness lately, with how clever Freeza is, growing cautious and suspicious and putting roadblocks in his path. But Vegeta manages, finds alternatives and justifications to soothe his pride, needing power and control enough to where appealing to his lord becomes something he can willingly tolerate. Playing _nice_ hasn't been easy, but against a feared tyrant who has no one to care for or about him, it's gotten _results_ , and that's all that matters to Vegeta.

Despite his Saiyan heritage, he has Freeza warming up to him, speaking kinder, looking forward to his company, ( _flirting back_ )...

Everything has been going so well. Everything has been going _too_ well, really, given Vegeta's notoriously wretched luck, so of _course_ a single extra shot of liquor is the tipping point between success and failure. Well, that, and Cooler dropping by without warning to personally excuse himself from the station, very much aware that he was never _actually_ welcome on board, but wanting to rub it in Freeza's face, regardless. He doesn't end up saying much at all, but he's also aware he doesn't need to, for there's a knowing and disdainful smirk on his face when he discovers the Saiyan prince alone with his least favorite (only) little brother.

It would have been hard for Cooler to miss how Freeza had stormed off from the party in a huff, dragging a mildly confused Vegeta along with him, no doubt to serve as an audience for his inevitable griping. It would have been even harder to miss how Vegeta had gone along without any fuss whatsoever, conspicuously compliant in a way that would have raised red flags, if only Cooler had it in him to care. What's hardest of all to miss, though, is what they've wound up drunkenly doing in the meantime, given how he finds them halfway nude and short of breath and all.

“ _My_ , Freeza, show some _decorum_ ,” Cooler sighs as he leaves, having seen the bottle Vegeta had been allowed to swig hearty samples from. “We _both_ know you keep the good stuff in your quarters.”

Freeza turns the most _marvelous_ shade of mortified violet, hands clenched and teeth gritting, and when Vegeta growls at Cooler's retreating form for interrupting the final and _very_ inebriated stage of cunning plans, Freeza mistakes the Saiyan's growling as being in _his_ defense. An easy mistake to make, considering he's completely ignorant of the fact that Vegeta's been playing him, and a mistake that has Freeza flushing darker. He's silent and stunned for only a split second further before, with an almost flustered sort of half-smile, he gathers Vegeta up into his arms, tentatively pleased as he carries the prince off to where the mentioned _good stuff_ is waiting.

Vegeta doesn't care, certain that he still has matters firmly in hand, and bracing himself for whatever tortures he'll have to endure once Freeza is met with the most maliciously forceful 'no' of his life. At least those tortures will be played out on something soft, rather than atop the dictator's workspace.

But then Freeza pops the top of a new and tiny bottle, filled with something powerful and misleadingly fruity, smirking in challenge as he pours and hands over a shot. No Saiyan could have backed down from that challenge, and Vegeta is no exception, knocking it back like it's no more potent than water. It goes down smooth as silk, but hits him harder than a punch, sending him into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles that get Freeza laughing, too.

The remnants of the drink go down the lizard's throat after that, both bottle and shotglass tossed aside to shatter, and then the rest of their armor is gone in a matter of seconds. Vegeta isn't even able to recall taking off his bodysuit, his mind going fuzzy at having Freeza's mouth on his again, in only the third kiss of his life. The first and second had taken place scarcely minutes prior, back before Cooler had interrupted – and so _rudely_ , too, Vegeta thinks. He'd been _trying_ to get things done!

Hands sliding down his sides make it hard to remember what those things are, and, when he looks back on events later, he'll figure this is probably the moment all his hard work falls to pieces. Vegeta _knows_ pain, but outside of that, with his experiences limited to the occasional fumbling moment alone, awkward and annoying and only done so he can actually focus, he has _no_ defense against pleasure.

Once strong and expensive booze is first and foremost in control, thought becomes disjointed, judgment skewed, and Vegeta _should_ protest it when Freeza pushes him back against the sheets. Should, but doesn't, because he's shocked into compliance when a cool hand wraps around him and strokes, unsure and similarly fumbling, but _so_ much better than doing it on his own. The unfamiliar thrill of it shuts down any argument he could have made, and all he does instead is rock back into the touch, covering his mouth to stifle the embarrassing sound that tries to escape.

He's distantly certain that Freeza is just as drunk as he is. Has to be, for the tyrant's cold tongue laves a path down Vegeta's body, hands guiding his hips up, and then there's soft wetness swirling at his opening to leave him choking on his own breath. He _had_ cleaned down there, in anticipation of something happening and wanting to spare himself at least the indignity of making a mess, but _Freeza_ has no idea, and Vegeta had hardly anticipated _this_.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been ashamed at how it makes him writhe, head tossed back and a moan sweeping out of him. If not for that last shot more or less knocking him flat on his ass, Vegeta would have been shoving Freeza away by now, alarmed and disgusted and allowing only the chaste touches needed for his lord to find him tempting. It was only ever supposed to go far enough to start something he could sharply refuse, solely to infuriate Freeza into forcing the issue, and from there, once they'd sobered up, to have the lizard regretting it enough to compensate Vegeta with whatever he wanted.

Now, though, that objective is lost to the questing tongue teasing into him, stirring up coils of molten heat in his belly, and it doesn't even occur to him that he needs to say 'no'. His body is screaming a definite ' _yes_ ' instead, and he pushes into the touch for _more_ , hands clutching desperately at the sheets like they're a lifeline. He even grabs hold of one sharp black horn, without even thinking about it, just to keep Freeza where he is.

It's so much – _too_ much, for someone who's barely even touched _himself_ before – that Vegeta can scarcely process how long he's laid out and languidly teased. It seems like forever, and yet no time at all, before he finds himself laid out atop Freeza's body, his knees pressed into the bedspread and an attentive mouth still plying him open. There's a strong hand in his hair, hard flesh at his lips, and Vegeta offers no protest at all when Freeza pushes his head down so he can put his own mouth to use. Rather than any complaints, a clever twist of smooth muscle over his entrance has him mewling instead, and slowly sucking in his lord's thick member like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

It's not, far from it – bland and nondescript, vaguely salty – but it doesn't stop Vegeta from dragging his tongue over it with a moan. The feeling is strange, having anything filling his mouth that he's not going to bite into and chew, but also strangely gratifying, knowing that Freeza is trembling because of _him_. He can barely focus on what he's doing, still squirming his hips into the delicious sensation below and bobbing his head when the hand in his hair demands it, but from some sole distant logical space remaining in his subconscious, a thought manages to surface.

Without proper preparation, Vegeta is certain that the thickness he's swallowing around, and how it sports odd ridges reaching nearly to its tip, will tear him open to instantly leave him raw and agonized. It seems appropriate to his addled mind – he wasn't supposed to enjoy this, after all.

Even so, it's the only thought that has him hesitating when Freeza maneuvers him again, to where he's kneeling over that ridged thickness with his cheeks spread wide by still-cold hands, the very tip of his lord's member kissing at his entrance. Vegeta starts to object, vaguely sure he should have been doing that, anyway, but his words die in a fluttery gasp when Freeza's tail twines with his own, ruffling the fur in wonderful ways. His back arches, weight easing down, and he shudders in hazy delight at the feeling of solid flesh sinking ever so slowly into him, before the first ridge meets his opening and gets him to cringe.

“Ow,” is all Vegeta has to say to get Freeza to withdraw, worried and whispering concessions as he pulls the prince down against his chest. Tail still caught and fluffing out in pleasure, Vegeta lets it happen, his eyes even falling shut as Freeza kisses him in apology, humming with something like approval against the tyrant's lips. He's strangely disappointed when the cold hands stroking over him take pause, one even daring to leave his skin when Freeza reaches for something; Vegeta doesn't open his eyes to find out what. He's more concerned with keeping his lord's mouth where it is and occupied, enjoying the slide of lips and tongues too much to bother with anything else.

At least, until there's fingers at his entrance, slippery with an unknown substance to press in slick and easy, getting him to groan through the sheer sensation of it. Vegeta isn't sure if it feels necessarily _good_ – the brief moment they start to pull out feels uncomfortably like voiding his bowels – until one swipes over a spot inside that leaves him whimpering with need against Freeza's mouth. His ensuing noises are swallowed down happily, Freeza letting out a low chuckle as he zeroes in on that little weakness; true to form even when thoroughly sloshed, and not letting up until Vegeta is a quivering, moaning mess atop him.

There's no hesitation on the second try, having Freeza's thick member pressing against and into him. Vegeta twitches and gasps wetly with every ridge driving past his meager defenses, suddenly far too good to be real, and once he's fully seated, he lets out a whine of pure bliss. He's so completely filled, and it's just about the most singularly intense feeling he's ever had, in a way far too different to compare to the heady battle rush of transforming under a full moon. The surge of instinct is the same, though, commanding Vegeta to _move_ , to put his body to _use_ , and he sees no other option but to obey, clinging to Freeza's shoulders as he rocks his hips. The slide out, again, feels strange and almost too familiar to be comfortable, but then Freeza rocks back into him, finding that weak point inside, and it leaves Vegeta aching for more.

It's better than Vegeta could have possibly imagined. He's vaguely certain the countless mouthfuls of booze he's swallowed down might have something to do with that, but it doesn't matter. When Freeza starts to move, every motion of his hips achingly slow and gratifying and seeking out that delectable spot inside every time, Vegeta can't do anything to stifle his cries. There's nothing in what his drunken employer is doing that isn't electrifying in all the best possible ways, and he can barely do more than just lie there and take it, gasping and moaning as he's driven bit by maddening bit to what promises to be an explosive finish.

Arms wrapped around Freeza's neck, Vegeta buries his burning face against cold skin, murmuring with appreciation at having hands smoothing over his back and through his hair. “Do you like that, pet?” Freeza whispers to him, and he nods without even thinking, pressing closer, hips rolling down and into each thrust. When fingers brush over the base of his tail, Vegeta tightens with a ragged cry, and cool breath puffs out over his ear, just before Freeza flips them over to pin him against the sheets. “So _good_...” Vegeta barely hears, but agrees with as he's plundered faster, deeper, his legs locking around pistoning hips. It's the best thing he's ever felt, and he suckles at the skin closest to his mouth, as if it will help to stop any of the indecent noises he's making.

He's not sure how he has the presence of mind to do it, with how thoroughly lost to both booze and pleasure he is, and especially when he's given another heady kiss that has him clinging on tighter. Even so, Vegeta manages to pose a single question, once Freeza's mouth parts from his to let him breathe. “Have you – done this before?” he gasps out, not even caring if he's heard or understood until he has to drag Freeza back into him, the tyrant faltering ever so slightly in surprise.

Vegeta's equally surprised when he feels the answer, Freeza's face nudging into the crook of his neck, and shaking back and forth just so. “I've seen...performances,” Freeza murmurs, almost reluctantly, and sounding winded as he continues to move, spurred on by Vegeta's legs squeezing around his waist. “I had to...know how to produce an heir, someday. ...Father insisted.” The explanation is stilted, uncomfortable in a way Vegeta has never heard before, and for some reason – surely because of all the liquor he'd downed before – it has the back of his hand caressing, tilting Freeza's face up so he can lay a soft kiss at the corner of his lord's mouth.

He knows how it is, the weight of too much expectation from others...

Somehow, that simple action, gentle and mostly meaningless, has Freeza seizing up with a bitten-off moan, bearing Vegeta down with a final trembling press of his hips. With how suddenly over it is, cold seed spilling after a scant few minutes of near-numbing pleasure, Vegeta is left unsatisfied and shaking with desire. Distantly, he prays that it won't all be over so quickly.

When he recalls that prayer later on, he'll hate himself, but in the moment, he gets lucky.

After what must be the first time of reaching the shattering high of climax, Freeza doesn't move, kneeling over the still-writhing prince with his eyes blown wide and full of awe. His pulsing length remains buried temptingly deep, and when he leans to rest his mouth to one pink-flushed ear, Vegeta could almost cry with relief at his words. “I can keep going,” Freeza breathes to him, and does just that.

It doesn't take much longer before Vegeta crests that same peak, a hand that's not his own closed around his heated flesh to bring him tumbling over. The near-scream of ecstasy that accompanies his fall is only muffled when he bites into his knuckles, the pleasure spiking closer and closer to discomfort the longer Freeza plows him through it. When the feeling lances far too close to pain, though, instinct croons its distinct approval, and though it hurts not to say anything, to let his lord press on and with greater enthusiasm into his body, Vegeta keeps his mouth shut. All that escapes him are hissing breaths, and the occasional choked groan when the pain and pleasure blend just right. Eventually, it all spirals back around to pure and simple pleasure, and the cycle begins anew.

The more time they take to sate themselves, the more of a blur the intimate liaison becomes, one moment difficult to distinguish from the next, but each one equally intense as the last the whole way through. A new bottle is opened up at some point, a sweet wine to soothe Vegeta's throat and Freeza's habits, and they take to drinking in celebration with each passing climax, one of only two things that add any real punctuating times of clarity to their affair. The other is Vegeta being shifted into new positions every so often, stretched and plied and splayed out to the lizard's liking, and after a while, he can't even muster up the will to complain. It's all too good, and the more Vegeta argues, the less he can just lie there and enjoy it as he lets Freeza do as he pleases.

Vegeta's more drunk than he's ever been in his life, both on liquor and the pleasure itself, a potent combination that drives the prince halfway to mindlessness. Soon enough, or perhaps hours later, it has him reaching a point where he finds himself craving every last frigid release that coats his burning insides, and the long groan of delight that accompanies it each time without fail. Vegeta even takes what little breath he has to plead with Freeza, begging him to finish inside, sucking in a shuddering breath and whimpering every time he's flooded yet again. Before long, he has thick strands of the cold seed dripping from him with every pitch of the tyrant's hips, trailing down his thighs to leave them sticky and shivering.

Vegeta is only dimly aware of being turned onto his stomach, in what would have been an unacceptably submissive posture had he been sober. But as it stands now, the change means very little to the prince – certainly not enough to warrant his concern. All it means to Vegeta is a pillow under his head, something he can bite into whenever sensation becomes too much for him, so he gladly leans into the icy hands that pull him in and prop his hips. When Freeza sinks into him again, that too-wide, oddly ridged length filling him up to the brim for the nth time in however long it's been, Vegeta pushes right back into it with a hoarse cry, welcoming each and every ensuing thrust like a long-lost lover.

The affair lasts for over four hours.

When it all finally stops, Freeza going still for the last time with a breathless moan, Vegeta's body is bordering on numb from the wholly pleasurable ordeal. He doesn't even have the energy to chuckle when the tyrant slumps over him, sweat-slicked chest pressed firmly against his back to pin his limp tail between them. As Freeza murmurs contentedly, cold lips pressing thoughtless kisses to his shoulder, all Vegeta can manage is a thin, satisfied sigh, very much pleased with how the night had gone.

He's not entirely certain that it's truly over just yet, not until he's turned onto his side with a comfortably dozing tyrant spooning him from behind. But once Freeza is curled along his back, an arm over his waist and his ankle caught in the loose but possessive coil of his lord's tail, the reassuring solid weight lulls him calmly into slumber.

Vegeta doesn't even dream.

When he awakens later on with a pounding headache, confused and lethargic and fumbling with the excessive amount of soft pillows around him, it's to a faded memory of pleasant soreness in every limb...

And Freeza, seated at the edge of the bed with a glass of water in hand, looking almost _uncertain_ as he watches Vegeta wake up.

The room smells overwhelmingly of sex, a musky sort of salt that slams mortification straight into the most insecure parts of Vegeta's mind. His pride shrivels back from what the scent lays out as fact, his expression slack with disbelief, even as the dried fluids crusting the bedsheets declare what had passed the night before without any question. As he sits up with a slight wince at the minor complaints of his muscles, automatically accepting the drink Freeza hands him, Vegeta doesn't have to ask if he'd missed anything.

As if to spite him, his memory plays it all back to him in perfect clarity. Recalling how he'd offered no resistance, even urged Freeza on in drunken lust, only serves to emphasize his massive failure.

The silence between them is oppressive, heavy and thick with tension as Freeza gauges his reactions, but Vegeta isn't sure what he could possibly do about it. Horrified at his glaring lapse of self-control, embarrassed at being so openly scrutinized (they're both still _naked_ , he realizes with a jolt), but singularly unable to come up with a way to cope with any of it, Vegeta turns his focus to the one thing he knows how to handle. He lifts the glass to his mouth, hands shaking, and slowly gulps down its contents to soothe his headache and ragged throat.

The corners of his eyes start to burn before he even finishes. What's left of the water nearly spills when Vegeta's hands drop into his lap, and he hates how pathetic he sounds when he finally speaks. “Everyone's going to think I'm a _slut_ ,” he says in dismay, and when he buries his hands in to his hair at the thought – the mere _idea_ of not being taken seriously – Freeza has to reach in to spare him a sodden lap when his drink starts to tip over.

Fingers lightly tapping over the glass as he sits back, Freeza watches him for a moment more, before pointing out, "No one needs to know. _I_ certainly don't intend on sharing; it's rather private, don't you think?" It doesn't help in the least, Vegeta just scrunching his eyes shut and tugging harder at his hair, and his clear lack of relief has Freeza weighing his next words carefully.  He sounds oddly disappointed when he asks, “Did you not mean for last night to happen?”

The question has the affair's events flashing through Vegeta's mind again, and despite himself, his body tingles with remembered pleasure. He'd been pinned to this very bed the night before, having to listen to that same exact voice right up against his ear – moaning in rapture, calling to him, purring to him how _good_ he felt inside... His face flames, and he slides his hands down to cover it, groaning in simultaneous humiliation and frustration with himself.

This was _not_ how things were supposed to go.

Last night should have been the final stage of his plan; something he could never be expected to repeat, a reason for Freeza to repent with whatever Vegeta wanted and then leave him be. How is he supposed to wrap things up _now_?

Banishing the thoughts with a rough shake of his head, Vegeta takes a deep breath, hands lowering as he tries to puzzle out some way to turn this mess back to his advantage. He's in completely unfamiliar territory now, and sends a nervous glance Freeza's way, but finds that he can't quite meet his lord's sharp red eyes just yet. He'd seen _those_ throughout the night, too, full of affection and longing...

There's nothing of that now, the tyrant's brow furrowed, mouth pressing into a firm line at how Vegeta has yet to answer him, and it betrays his train of thought. Freeza is cautious, _suspicious_ , questioning the Saiyan's motives more than ever, and the thought of his whole plan blowing up in his face now that he's already failed should have Vegeta running on high alert. Should have, but he's too numb to react when Freeza tilts his head in careful consideration. “Is there something you _want_ from me, Vegeta?” he asks, and while his voice is level, almost gentle, suggesting he doesn't want to jeopardize whatever he thinks might be forming between them, there's still a subtle undercurrent of warning.

Freeza is not one to accept being taken advantage of without consequence.

“I don't know,” is all Vegeta can respond with at first, meek and quiet and openly embarrassed. Then, when Freeza huffs through his nose, less than impressed and very distinctly displeased by the answer, the prince adds, just as pitifully and down at his lap, “I didn't think this would happen.”

“You didn't _want_ it?”

The odd mix of alarm and disbelief has Vegeta tensing, wary and having no idea what will happen if he rejects Freeza now. “I don't _know_ ,” he insists, finally forcing himself to meet his lord's eyes. “All I know is that you hate your family – I was just trying to _help_.” For all the ulterior motives he'd had behind it, that much is the truth, and something in Vegeta's expression – or perhaps the brilliant pink of his cheeks – must proclaim it as such. The hard gaze he's been pinned with softens, Freeza's own face tinting slightly violet, but it remains cautious, questioning.

After a moment of just examining the Saiyan before him, still bare and in his bed, Freeza asks, lighter than before, “So there is _nothing_ you want from me? Nothing whatsoever?” He reaches out with the hand not holding the near-empty glass, fingers trailing beneath Vegeta's jawline, a soft and feathery touch that screams of an unspoken test.

Knowing better than to fail that test, Vegeta doesn't flinch away from the touch, accepting it with a low, wisping sigh. “I want to reach Elite status,” he admits, though as soon as Freeza's fingers stiffen, he goes on, “but I want to prove to you that I'm worth it, by my own strength.” He gestures between them loosely in indication. “ _This_ doesn't prove anything.” His head lowers, the hand at his chin allowing it, as he thinks to himself how his _strength_ won't mean anything, either, if the rest of the planet trade discovers what's happened. Vegeta has had to scrape and suffer for every last thing he has, but if this gets out, everyone from Zarbon on down to the merest grunt will think his earnings and accomplishments came purely out of Freeza's favor for him.

The lizard obviously understands that without even having to hear it, no doubt recalling how his highest officer had once questioned the nature of their relationship, and he drops his hand to pat Vegeta on the knee. “You'll have to make a good show of impressing me, then,” Freeza tells him, much more relaxed and pleasant than before. “Can't have anyone getting it in their heads that I'm coddling you, now, can I?”

Vegeta nods, unable to do much else, but he still feels like it's distinctly unfair. He's never really been given a _chance_ to impress anyone, up until he discovered he could manipulate Freeza more or less with impunity. He's not sure if he'll _ever_ be given that chance, especially now that he's flubbed his best opportunity, and badly debased himself in the process, so he risks asking, “What do I have to do?”

At first, Freeza only chuckles and brushes the backs of his fingers over the prince's cheek, but when Vegeta allows it without complaint, he's met with a fantastic surprise. “Wait, and do as you're told,” Freeza tells him simply, and it shouldn't surprise him at all, but Vegeta still can't quite believe it. Is getting everything he wants _really_ going to be as cut and dry as obedience, until Freeza thinks he's waited long enough? “I _do_ believe you've earned the rank, with your improvements over the last few months,” the dictator adds with a smile, “so it would please me to grant this to you at a...more _appropriate_ time. Until then, I'm sure I can come up with _something_ suitably impressive you can do for me.”

The claim puts everything into proper perspective. Vegeta _will_ have to earn the title of Elite, in some way or another, but Freeza isn't going to make it impossible for him anymore, just because he's Saiyan.

“A mission?” he guesses, wondering if he's pressing his luck, only to have Freeza chuckling again.

“You'll see,” he's promised, “so be patient. I won't let you wait for long.”

There's an odd moment of hesitation, a cool hand smoothing along Vegeta's jaw, and then he's tested again, numbly permitting it when Freeza leans forward to kiss him. It takes every last scrap of willpower to keep himself from tensing, and revealing how he wants nothing to do with any of this, but Vegeta manages it even so, and he's rewarded for it. The contact is short-lived and gentle, a stunningly innocent act that demands nothing, and when Freeza pulls away, it's with the faint glimmer of fondness creeping back into his eyes.

All Vegeta can see is a new vulnerability to exploit.

His lord harbors affection for him, something he can test the limits of at his own pace, and – better yet – he already knows he can wrangle concessions from it. Freeza so very rarely feels the need to lie, being above most consequences with his power, and not caring to spare the feelings of others.  Even if his meanings aren't always clear, Freeza doesn't bother to say what he doesn't mean, so if he says Vegeta won't be waiting long for a promotion, then he means it. Within a reasonable span of time, surely meant as a safeguard to avoid rumors that favor played any part in the decision, Vegeta _will_ be granted Elite status.

He wants it now, of course, craving the freedom that comes with setting his own assignments and schedule, but Vegeta can wait. If there's one thing he's learned over the past few months, discovering and deciphering the lizard's only real weakness, it's how to be patient. So he nods, and thanks his lord, and even apologizes for making Freeza think he might have been trying to take advantage. He does so mostly in hopes of dispelling what is actually truth from Freeza's mind, but also partially to see if it endears himself further to the tyrant.

It surely accomplishes both, for the apology is waved off with good humor, and not even an ounce of concern. Vegeta knows he'll have to be careful to preserve that lack of concern, but much like before this whole mess, he also knows he's good enough at faking interest to fool his desperately lonely lush of a boss. As long as he keeps the truth of his hatred quiet, even to his own men, and keeps on feigning a measure of care for the lizard's well-being, Freeza will never again see reason to question Vegeta's motives.

Though certain he's back in control of the situation now, when he's ushered into the other room to shower and dress for the day, Vegeta can't ignore the uneasy welling of foreboding at the back of his mind. Not when Freeza joins him under the spray of water, and is less than subtle in how close he keeps to the prince, eyes straying into inappropriate territory far too often to be comfortable. Vegeta tolerates it without a word, though, because Freeza doesn't address it, either, and doesn't lay so much as a hand on him. Even the shared shower is passed off as nothing more than a necessary convenience – they're both running late, after all – and it's not like Vegeta's unfamiliar with bathing around others, anyway.

When he hears the tyrant's breath catch behind him soon after, having surely watched as he bent over to pull on his underthings, it gets harder for Vegeta to tolerate. Logically, he _knows_ Freeza won't force attention on him, might not even with booze and unfettered rage coursing through him, simply because his lord had stopped at the slightest sign of his discomfort. It's more the reminder of _why_ Vegeta knows that – the simple fact that they've already slept together, and that Freeza would no doubt enjoy doing so again – which grates terribly at his pride.

Once he's dressed, and feels a supportive hand at his back just before they step out into the station's halls, reminders and understanding alike make Vegeta unspeakably anxious. He doesn't want to think about it, the very idea threatening to leave him with a frizzy tail and a persistent case of jitters, but the facts are undeniable. _Especially_ so, given he has a normally snide and heartless dictator walking him back to his quarters, gladly taking time that can't be spared just to be sure Vegeta has all the personal effects he needs for a mission.

Freeza is fond of him, he needs to keep it that way to get what he wants, they've already slept together, and, if he's reading his lord correctly...

_It might have to happen again._

With Vegeta being the only one to ever show any hint of care or affection to Freeza, however false it may have been and still is, there's no telling how the lizard might cope with rejection. Still, if Vegeta has to place any bets on it, he's willing to guess Freeza wouldn't take such rejection kindly. It has him silently fretting over his dilemma as he walks alongside the tyrant, barely listening to what's said to him the whole meager trip down the hall to his quarters, but nodding along despite it. Before he can even reach his door, two familiar faces round the corner up ahead, and Vegeta instantly finds himself fretting over another similar – but entirely _different_ – problem.

Raditz and Nappa have returned early from the purge he'd sent them on, and the moment they see their prince with Freeza, the two exchange wary glances that Vegeta can't make sense of for the life of him. Worse yet, although he'd soaped and scrubbed himself from head to tail to foot earlier, there's no way in _hell_ that's going to be enough to trick Saiyan senses.

As soon as his men are within arm's reach, they're going to smell his every last shame on him like he'd never bathed at all.

If that wasn't enough, Freeza lapses into silence then, no doubt catching on to Vegeta's unease at the approach of his subordinates. The lizard considers the potentially awkward scene that might unfold, and how much worse it would be if he stayed, before coming to a decision that is equal parts relieving and humiliating. He seems fully aware that Vegeta doesn't want him there for whatever happens – that the prince doesn't even want to be there _himself_ , really – as he whispers a quick offer of fortune and politely excuses himself. Vegeta is honest to gods wished _good luck_ by his employer, all because Freeza is _concerned_ about him.

The universe might as well just end right now. As far as Vegeta can figure, it's all been going downhill ever since he was born, anyway. Better for it all to end, really, than acknowledge how one small and traitorous part of him wishes that Freeza had stayed to back him up.

No matter how much he doesn't want to, Vegeta bears witness to the very instant in which Nappa catches on, nostrils flaring and nose scrunching up, before a hint of anger blooms red on his face. Raditz isn't nearly as clever as the old general, though, nose wrinkling just the same at what he smells, but not sure what information to parse from it. Glaring at the door to his quarters as he jabs in his access code, Vegeta refuses to address the matter, greeting them only with a short, “We have a mission.” Technically, it's his alone, but if it gives them something other than his many mistakes to focus on, he's fine throwing them into it, too.

Naturally, he's not so lucky, Nappa's massive frame squeezing into his quarters behind him before he can close the door. “What's going on with you and Freeza,” he's prompted straight off, in the most no-nonsense tone he's heard from his guard in a while, and Vegeta clenches his fists.

“ _Nothing_ ,” he growls, and when he finds that Raditz has followed them in, managing to look both confused and certain there's _something_ interesting going on, Vegeta raises his voice. “Get packed up. Ship-off time was an hour ago.”

“ _Vegeta_ ,” Nappa insists, in a sharp voice that the prince hasn't been subjected to since he was still in diapers. “Out with it. Did that bastard freak do somethin' to you?”

“Other than the usual?” Raditz half-jokes, before he quails and shuts his mouth at a fierce glare from Nappa. He's visibly glad that he doesn't have to contend with the same look from Vegeta, who's more concerned with meeting and holding the general's stern gaze to bother. The weakest of the three fidgets at the resulting face-off, edging back toward the door as a thin charge of ki rises in the air, and when the tension becomes too much for him to handle, Raditz points out, “It can't be _that_ bad, yeah? He ain't pitchin' a fit or nothin', Nappa.”

Though he snarls in annoyance, Nappa keeps his eyes on Vegeta as he snaps back, “Shut the _fuck_ up, Raditz. Or can you not _smell_ that?” Without even having to try, he picks up how the question puts his prince on edge, and his meaty hands curl tight enough to leave his knuckles white. Even as Raditz sniffs gingerly at the air again, Nappa tries with exemplary effort to keep from snapping at Vegeta, too, his voice deceptively calm. “If he did something, you can tell us,” he grits out, obviously hating every word of it – because if Freeza's done _anything_ , it means their prince isn't strong enough to take care of himself.

Fed up, Vegeta turns his back to stalk across the room, scooping up his scouter from where he'd tossed it last. He clips it into place over one ear, but doesn't turn it on just yet, not wanting their conversation to be broadcast for the entire organization to hear. “Why? What would that accomplish, Nappa?” he asks roughly, not even wanting to look at either of them. They weren't supposed to have any _idea_ of what Vegeta's been up to, what he's forced himself to endure in order to secure them proper meals, and housing, and missions that aren't a waste of their time. “Would you _fight_ him, if he's done something?”

The very idea is laughable. All of them know that Freeza can kill even the Saiyan prince himself with a mere flick of a finger. And if it's Nappa, the tyrant won't even bother doing _that_ much, not when he has others to dispose of such a weak challenge for him...

Vegeta can't see the look on Nappa's face, but he's sure the general is furious at the reminder, that the last of their kind aren't even a passing _threat_ to Freeza. He can picture his guard's gritted teeth, the hunched shoulders and massive fists, heavy tail frizzed around his waist; the perfect image of a battle-ready Saiyan Elite. When Vegeta looks over his shoulder, though, bland and unimpressed, he's stunned to find Nappa slumped and frowning down at the floor instead, jaw tight as he struggles with some inner conflict.

Whatever that conflict is, Raditz actually seems to understand. While he's nowhere near as bright as his superiors, he's shown that he's far more versed in parsing emotion than both of them combined. Gets it from his mother, supposedly, which is fitting; she'd been frightfully weak. Still, that weakness isn't something Raditz shows often, much less openly, so it isn't unacceptable to Vegeta on the rare occasions it's offered for his benefit in private. It's why he doesn't chide Raditz for being soft when he's told, “We'd _wanna_ fight him, obviously, if he ever messed with you. You're our prince.” Then, when Nappa allows a grudging nod of agreement, Raditz adds, “But we won't. Not unless you tell us to.”

“Good,” Vegeta says, disarmed enough by his subject's open loyalty that he actually feels like he _should_ explain, if only to set them both at ease. It's so much of a mess, though, looking back on all of it, that all he's willing to offer is a careless, unconvincing, “Don't worry about it. Freeza didn't do anything.” Nothing Vegeta hadn't stupidly brought on himself and encouraged, at least.

Raditz accepts it straight away, and heads for the door with a shrug, but the prince's careless choice of words apparently tells Nappa everything, for the general stiffens again. Sick shame and dismay coils in Vegeta's gut as he watches the older Saiyan casting for words, and he's frozen in place when Nappa finally speaks, looking just as horrified as he feels. “Zarbon said something was going on with you both,” his guard starts out slowly, Raditz pausing in his retreat to look back at them, recognition flickering. “I thought he was just being a _shit_ , talking garbage like that, but...”

With an air of slowly dawning realization, awful to see in someone normally so dim, Raditz chimes in, “Yeah, hasn't Freeza been givin' you a lotta stuff lately?” His brows furrow, nose wrinkling in a way that makes Vegeta want to deck him. “Seems like every time me n' Nappa get back, you've ranked up _somethin'_.”

“Is that a _problem_?” Vegeta bites back before he can even stop himself, ki rising along with it, as if to underscore his fraying self-control. “I don't know if you've noticed, _Raditz_ , but I've been _getting stronger_.” In challenge, his furious stare turns from Raditz and onto Nappa, and it frustrates him to know that, of his two remaining subjects, only the general is strong enough to meet his glare head-on. “How many are left in the planet trade that can fight me, and stay standing at the end?” he dares Nappa to answer.

His guard deliberates on that for a long moment, before obediently lowering his eyes and muttering, “S...seven. Outside of Freeza himself, and not countin' Cui.” Of _course_ not counting Cui. Cui hadn't counted since Vegeta knocked him out cold three months ago, even though they're both still at the same level of power. The very mention of the frog-faced idiot has Vegeta rolling his eyes, up until Nappa reminds him, out of nowhere, “You know that whole meteor story's gotta be fake...right, Vegeta? That Freeza must've been the one to do it?”

“I'm _aware_ ,” Vegeta replies shortly, arms crossing, but in a way that feels much more defensive than his usual. It bothers him, and he's not sure why, so he covers it up with a command. “Get to the point, if you even have one.”

“You can't trust him,” Nappa tells him, pointlessly, as he doesn't know what Vegeta does. He has no idea how his prince has been privy to their overlord's most vulnerable moments – of insecurity, loneliness, attachment – and lived to remember it all in perfect detail. It _should_ be annoying, the certainty that Freeza is more open with Vegeta than he's ever been with anyone else, but it's too convenient to be mad about. It only has Vegeta wearily aggravated when Nappa keeps on like he knows what he's talking about. “Whatever he says, or offers, it's not worth giving him what he wants, Vegeta. I know you're still young-”

“I'm _twenty-five_ ,” he snaps impatiently, knowing that his guards forget sometimes. The lack of proper nutrition in his youth had _not_ done him any favors.

“- _Inexperienced_ ,” Nappa amends it instead, glowering at him, and trying to ignore how Raditz is looking back and forth between them with a disbelieving grin on his face. “If it's not something awful, I don't wanna know how... _this_ happened-” He flaps a meaty hand at Vegeta, no doubt indicating the unmistakable signs of the prior night, thinly veiled beneath the scents of soap and healthy Saiyan. “-but I want you to know, right now, that he's taking advantage of how you're new to it all.”

Not wanting to hear any more, Vegeta turns on his heel again, teeth grinding almost painfully tight as he starts gathering the rest of his personals. What the fuck does _Nappa_ know anyway? Freeza had been new to it all, too!  Frustrated and petulant, Vegeta ignores whatever else the hulking moron has to say, grabbing up his canteen, already full, and his newest vid screen, so he can study what's known of the fighting styles on the world they'll be heading to. He successfully tunes out the general's insistent voice, but it's harder to ignore Raditz, who walks straight into his path with a disarming grin and his hands where they can be seen, pacifying in a way that _works_ , damn him. “So didja actually bang 'im?” Raditz asks, and that straight up pisses Vegeta off right away.

It takes Nappa grabbing his arm to keep him from slugging Raditz into the closest wall, throwing Vegeta off balance enough to where he actually stumbles once he's let go. He catches himself on his desk, something he's never _had_ before, not until he figured out how to wrangle the things they needed for a better life out of his hated employer. It fills Vegeta with unexpected fury, and when he whirls around, shrieking the first thing that comes to mind as he chucks whatever's in his hands at the closest available person, he almost puts out Nappa's eye with his vid screen. The general just barely dodges the attack, jerking to the side with his brows raised in alarm, only to tumble flat on his ass – quite literally – at what Vegeta has just unwittingly admitted to.

“We were _drunk_ , you _fucking assholes_!”

Silence sweeps the room in an instant. When he realizes just what he's revealed to his men, Vegeta goes stiff and still, wide-eyed and wishing he'd never left Freeza's quarters. Raditz only laughs, damn him to _hell_ , and spouts off some comment he no doubt thinks is witty; how it serves the bastard tyrant right, getting sloshed and tumbling around with someone he sees as a 'lowly monkey' and all. It's not Raditz that Vegeta's really worried about, though, because _he_ doesn't know any better.

_Nappa_ does.

The general's mouth has dropped open, working without sound as he starts putting the loose ends of passing oddities together. How Vegeta has been sending his subordinates away on their own missions the past few months, always for them to come back to better meals, new rooms, higher ranks, despite twenty whole years of substandard treatment... How Vegeta failed to react in the hall when Freeza leaned in close, whispering something for his ears only, as if such proximity was nothing new... How Vegeta proclaimed Freeza's drunken state, like it's some common vulnerability that he's familiar with, rather than a rare emergency, and like it's nothing to be threatened by, regardless of how soldiers have _died_ to an only _mildly tipsy_ tyrant...

Then, finally, there's how Vegeta is acting now, openly angry that he's been confronted, and no longer able to internalize his rage...but not laying any blame whatsoever on Freeza.

It's clear to Vegeta that his guard isn't going to miss what's going on, even with how little he's seen, simply because the prince's scent carries no hint of injury or distress. There's only the telling signs of shared pleasure. He'd failed to spurn Freeza when it counted, so he has no doubt that Nappa must already be figuring out the worst part of it all; that the only person Vegeta can blame for what happened is _himself_. The burly guard is sliding one heavy hand over his bare scalp, visibly struggling to parse what it all means, but the implications clearly leave him uneasy, for he looks vaguely sick when he looks up at his prince. “ _Shit_ , Vegeta,” Nappa croaks, unable to manage anything more, and not finding it the least bit funny when Raditz goes on to just take the fact for what it is.

He finds it even _less_ funny when Raditz teases, “Naked n' drunk, and he _didn't_ kill ya? _Nice._ ”

“I fucking _hate_ you,” Vegeta sighs at the mid-class, but there's no venom to it, and somehow he knows that just makes everything worse. His anger has already burned itself out, settling into bitter acceptance, surely making it far too obvious that there was something about this whole disaster that he was _expecting_. Vegeta even pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, rather than lashing out again, and says without enthusiasm, “So can we drop this? We're already running late.”

Every last thing he says and does must spell out perfectly how all of this is his own damn fault, and despite the risk it poses, how it might mean having to really explain his actions, Vegeta can't even stop himself. He doesn't want Raditz and Nappa to know _any_ of this, but he's always been able to count on them for loyalty, no matter _what_ they've all had to deal with, so he can't bring himself to act any differently. He's already dreading how he might have to pretend around Freeza, for however long it takes before he can kill the bastard, and the last thing he wants is to have to pretend around his own subjects, too.

He's relieved when Raditz just shrugs and drops it as asked with a careless, “Sure.” Leave it to the middle-class idiot to act like the whole affair is no more life-altering than a change in weather. He even claps Vegeta on the back before he heads out the door, smirking all the while, and dares to poke his head back in from the hallway with a cheeky, “See if you can top _him_ next time, will ya?”

It takes all of Vegeta's willpower not to blast him straight in the face.

Instead, he looks down at where Nappa is still sitting on the floor in numb silence, hardly able to believe everything he's heard. It's not surprising, really. Vegeta, the _Saiyan prince_ , had apparently gotten _drunk_ the night before – with _Freeza_ of all people – and somehow, _somehow_ , it had ended up with the two of them having _sex_. It would be a terrible, wretched revelation to _any_ Saiyan, devastatingly important after everything the tyrant has done to their kind, and yet Vegeta wants to _drop it_. He wants his last two subjects to set aside the entire miserable ordeal, as though he's never raged on about his hatred for the lizard for _hours_ before, and over comparatively _minor_ offenses.

Feeling more worn out than ever before, Vegeta watches as the general slowly casts his gaze over the room, and really _sees_ what they have now. No more threadbare cots and lavatory cubicles in the corner, or broken shelves and air vents clogged up with dust. Everything they've always been cruelly denied, up until recently, is present in Vegeta's quarters, and in his subjects' room right next door, making it impossible to question why the prince would go so far as to sacrifice his own dignity. Even so, Vegeta knows it's a bitter pill to swallow, Nappa burying his head in his hands for a long moment.

The general had sworn to his king to _protect_ Vegeta from shit like this.

Which means this latest failure is just as much Nappa's as it is his own.

When Nappa finally looks up at him, it's with an awful mix of emotion welling up on his face. Dismay, grief, rage...nothing the old general can do anything with if he wants to stay alive. Vegeta offers out a hand to him, and hauls him back to his feet, grip tightening to pull Nappa down so they're face to face. “If you tell _anyone_ about this, I'll kill you myself,” Vegeta warns him lowly. “Got it?”

He lets go at Nappa's sullen nod, turning away to retrieve his broken vid screen; he'll have to repair it during the trip, and hope he still has enough time to learn something from it afterward. His guard holds him back, though, a single hand dwarfing his forearm, and Vegeta forces down a sigh, knowing what's coming. “Vegeta...don't let this happen again,” Nappa pleads. “Okay?”

Shaking his arm free, Vegeta doesn't look at him. “...I can't promise that,” he admits, quiet and reluctant and so fucking _tired_.

There's nothing else Nappa could possibly say without regretting it, so he says nothing at all. The old general can't quite meet his eyes for almost a week after that, but he doesn't press his prince for any details, either, which Vegeta is grudgingly relieved by. It's almost normal enough to where he can imagine everything's been smoothed over, that the events of his tryst with Freeza have been erased, like nothing had ever even happened.

Until he's back on the station a month later, and has to deal with Nappa's stiff acceptance and Raditz's awful jokes when they all learn that Vegeta's been scheduled on a rare diplomatic excursion.

Alone.

With Freeza.

Straight into Cooler's territory.

By the mixed bag of annoying reactions from the other officers, his superiors, and even a number of nameless mooks, there's not a single person on board who'd want to be in Vegeta's place for _anything_. In fact, everyone is more or less convinced that Freeza assigned this task just to kill him, and that it'll be a miracle if Vegeta gets through it alive. Not even Zarbon thinks to question their relationship now, shaking his head and tutting in mock sympathy whenever he passes the other prince in the hall.

Only the Saiyans know better, and Vegeta best of all. Freeza had sworn to come up with something impressive, something for Vegeta to prove himself with, and here it is. If he succeeds in this mission – which he _will_ – the title of Elite will be his. And with what the mission entails, the tricky minefield that is mediating between a too-powerful family of homicidal maniacs, no one will have any reason to question it when Freeza follows through on his promise of a promotion.

It doesn't solve the ever-present anxious question of what to do about the tyrant's budding fondness for him, but it calms the restless fear Vegeta harbors, knowing at least that he'll soon have effectively limitless access to the battles he needs to boost his power. The knowledge even eases him enough to where unwanted budding fondness doesn't faze him once he faces his employer again, for the first time in over a month, and finds Freeza halfway through what must be his third flute of wine. It shows when Vegeta is greeted with a caress over his forearm, before his hand is captured and brought to Freeza's lips. All he can really stand to be glad for is that no one else is there to witness it.

The two of them ship out the next day, only Raditz going along to see Vegeta off. Nappa refuses the moment they all hear how the ship in question is going to be Freeza's own personal cruiser. As funny as the mid-class seems to think the matter is, though, with whatever's going on between his prince and their boss, he still watches Freeza with a look of distinct wariness when the lizard shows up at the docking bay. Raditz might be an unbearable shit, but even _he's_ not dumb enough to trust Freeza alone with his prince for two whole months.

“You gonna be okay?” Raditz mutters down at Vegeta, who scowls back up at him.

“I'm not a fucking _baby_ , Raditz,” he retorts, not as nasty about it as he could have been. He knows his men are just concerned that he's gotten in over his head somehow, and if Vegeta is being honest with himself, it really feels like that's the truth, anyway. Having Freeza before him, and knowing in a few minutes he'll be alone with the bastard, for two entire months round-trip, with no one else to turn to...

Vegeta is in _so_ over his head.

He steels himself and sucks it up, anyway, nodding sharply in farewell to Raditz, and following behind Freeza as he strolls up the ramp into his ship. “This should be _fun_ ,” his lord says offhand, with a mysterious little half-smile at his lips, and warning bells go off in Vegeta's mind in an instant. The ramp closes up and seals with solemn finality, the vessel humming to life, and they're off in short order, Freeza settling primly in the command chair to beckon him forward with the curl of a finger.  Vegeta indicates his small pack of personals by lifting it up in front of him, almost like it's a shield, and though the lizard huffs quietly, he allows the prince to beat a hasty retreat to his bunk.

Two months, Vegeta thinks as he listlessly unpacks what few items he's brought. Two whole gods damned months.

He is _so_ fucked.

_Probably literally._

By the time he's back on the bridge, awkward and fidgeting despite however much he tries not to be, it's not hard to guess at what Freeza must be hoping for. Without even pouring the first glass of wine for the day, he's back to the subtle flirting from before, and squints at Vegeta whenever it doesn't get any reaction. How could it, though? The prince is still shell-shocked that he's going to be spending so much time with someone he hates, but has to pretend he _cares about_ instead, all because he'd failed to follow through on his plan at its last crucial step.  All that keeps Vegeta going, and not lashing out at every lingering glance and unwelcome touch, is his never-ending drive for power.

That _has_ to be what it is, Vegeta thinks. He certainly can't attribute his persistence to _self-preservation_ , given all the dumb shit he keeps getting himself into.

He stumbles around in a near-daze for almost four days before Freeza gets tired of it, and summons him into the common room. It's as lavish as everything else on the ship, the lounging area plush and sprawling and half-drowned in silky cushions, and Vegeta numbly wonders if he'll wind up naked in all of that before they even get to where they're going. “What is _wrong_ with you?” Freeza asks him, more confused than anything, and he blinks and looks away from the more opulent seating arrangements to meet the lizard's baffled stare.

“I'm not sure what you mean, my lord,” Vegeta replies automatically, and he's not surprised when Freeza lets out a heavy sigh of disgust.

“There's no need to be so _formal_. There's no one else here, Vegeta.” He's motioned forward, closer, a hand held out to him expectantly, and Vegeta is even less surprised when taking it has him pulled down and in. He's settled right next to Freeza on a too-soft couch, a cold tail laid out around him to coil loosely at his ankle, and his hand isn't released. He'd like his hand back now, please. “You've been very quiet. Is it the mission you're worried about?” Freeza asks him, threading his fingers through the prince's, and his head tilts when Vegeta just looks silently down at their hands. “...Or is there something _else_?”

Past the hollow acceptance that _something_ is going to happen on this ship – whether it's more shameful indecency or his own murder, Vegeta isn't sure yet – sparks of anxiety settle in for the long haul. It's honestly strange it hadn't happened sooner, but Vegeta can't quite find it in him to be relieved. Nervous jitters are the _last_ thing he needs, dealing one on one with Freeza as he is, but it doesn't stop him from answering his lord's question with another question. He has a guess, but he needs to _know_.

“What are you... _expecting_ from me?”

Freeza watches him curiously, mulling the question over. “A job well done,” he finally answers, like it's obvious, and Vegeta shakes his head. Catching on, tints of violet spread over Freeza's cheeks, mouth dropping open in a silent 'oh' of comprehension. He deliberates over that question even longer, humming to himself in thought, before admitting, “I'm not really sure. I thought we could figure it out as we went along. Is that all right?”

It's the worst possible answer, because it doesn't give Vegeta anything to properly dread and prepare himself for. It just means an undetermined amount of time having to wonder and fret over whether or not Freeza will act on his fondness, and how he might do so. Will one day have him pulling Vegeta down for a kiss? Perhaps not – he could be perfectly content with sitting together and holding hands. Then again, he might just throw the prince down and _ravage him_ instead! And what will the _next_ day bring?

Reluctantly meeting Freeza's gaze out of the corner of his eye, Vegeta doesn't mince words this time. “You don't do things without a final goal in mind, Freeza,” he says, “and _I'm_ involved. So I need to know what that goal is – _right now_.”

There's no consequence for speaking his mind, or demanding anything of the dictator, and somehow that says everything. Freeza only sits there patiently considering what's been said, brow furrowing, before his free hand comes up to brush across Vegeta's jawline. The prince grudgingly allows the touch, which gently urges him to turn his head, and he grudgingly allows that, too, facing Freeza fully. “Only a bit of fun,” he's told lightly, and he steels his nerves as Freeza leans in to whisper, just shy of his lips, “I daresay we _both_ need to relax...”

Tilting ever so slightly away, to where the kiss lands at the corner of his mouth instead, Vegeta tries again. “The _goal_ , Freeza,” he insists, annoyed when a second kiss is placed straight over the first, like the lizard had _meant_ to do it. “I don't want to play any _games_ , so if you want me, just _say_ so.”

“You're _nervous_ ,” Freeza realizes instead, and if he wasn't infinitely stronger, Vegeta would have decked him out of pure frustrated spite. “You don't need to be; I have no intentions of harming you.” That's a relief, at least, but a hollow one, not serving to make this whole wretched situation any easier to deal with. When Vegeta only swallows, the action difficult around the lump of uneasiness in his throat, Freeza's eyes narrow, though whether in thought or anger, the prince isn't sure. “Do you not _want_ this, Vegeta?” he asks then, politely mild in a way that's not convincing at all, not when the glint of affection in his eyes is dimmed by cold disapproval.

There's no way to win here, so with no other viable options, Vegeta gives up trying. He'll be an Elite officer at the end of it all, but there's no way he's getting out of this with his dignity intact – not without pissing Freeza off, at least – so he might as well make the best of it while he still can. It's not like he hadn't _enjoyed_ what he'd subjected himself to at Freeza's hands, anyway, even if he'd been massively intoxicated at the time. Maybe he'll get lucky this time, too, and be able to down a dozen shots or so before he winds up on his back. “I'm incredibly maladjusted and _Saiyan_ ,” he tells Freeza flatly, “I don't know _what_ the fuck I want.”

It gets Freeza to laugh, high and surprised, like he's not expecting his own reaction any more than Vegeta is.  The fondness returns, and this time when he leans in, Vegeta doesn't turn away, allowing a chaste kiss with only a roll of his eyes. “We should fix that,” Freeza says when he pulls away, though still keeping close enough to where their breath mingles, free hand coming to rest on Vegeta's upper thigh. The contact skims just close enough to more intimate areas that the prince twitches despite himself, his body reacting in a way that decidedly conflicts with what his brain is supplying.

Even as it disgusts him on an offensively personal level, the light weight at his thigh has his baser instincts recalling Freeza's touch, and how good it had felt submitting to it. Much to Vegeta's dismay, he can feel himself warming as he's kissed again, breath caught in his throat when Freeza's hand caresses just so, thumb slipping over the more sensitive area of his inner thigh. The covering bodysuit of his armor does nothing to dull the sensation. In fact, Vegeta could swear it's only making it worse, the mix of texture and pressure getting him to shiver, a hesitant sound escaping him when his mouth is unexpectedly plundered.

Gods damn it all, but it's _better_ when he's sober. Vegeta can feel _everything_ , from the slide of Freeza's tongue against his own, to the brush of leathery tail over his own bristling fur, and the roving hand that sends skittering pleasure through his every last nerve. Mortified, and terrified, he pulls back, wide-eyed and panting, and unable to speak as Freeza smirks at him. “I _do_ think, Vegeta, that it is _abundantly_ clear what you want,” the bastard teases him, and when it has his cheeks burning, shame overtaking him to have him hanging his head, Freeza takes pity on him. “I suppose we _did_ dive into this rather suddenly, though,” he admits, tipping Vegeta's chin up, tone still a bit teasing when he asks, “Would you care for some liquid courage, my dear?”

_My dear._ Vegeta could just about die of embarrassment, and he buries his face in his hands, groaning in dismay. Freeza lets him do it, chuckling all the while, and when he hears the clink of a bottle, Vegeta holds out a hand for it straight away. It gets more fond laughter from his lord, which he chases down with a swig of something sharp and fragrant, followed by another, and another. Then, he hands the bottle back, shoves aside all reservations and standards and _anything_ to do with pride, and plants himself straight onto the lizard's lap, wrapping his arms around Freeza's neck to deeply kiss him.

He's fucked, anyway – might as well take a flying leap into the deep end and make it a _good_ one.

Much to his enormous lack of surprise, Vegeta _does_ in fact wind up naked in the lounging area, not even four damn days after shipping off into space. Though he's not as drunk as the first time, the events between their initial kisses and Freeza eagerly stripping them both of armor go by in a whirl, but Vegeta doesn't dare to question it. If he starts to question it, anxiety will bubble up to bring rage and humiliation along for the ride, so he opts instead to take a page from Raditz's book, and accepts everything that happens simply for what it is.

Subjectivity is cast off, context and implications tossed aside, and Vegeta focuses solely on objective fact. It's the only way he can stomach the other man's mouth against his own, the hands that trail over his body without pause, and the impending reality of allowing himself to be dominated yet again. Removing himself from the sticky rights and wrongs of the situation, Vegeta can ignore how he has every reason to hate Freeza, and instead enjoy how much more confident his lord's touch is now, more experienced and better able to stoke the heat of lust in him.

Pure objectivity becomes his greatest weapon of defense.

Making out with his employer, splayed out over a cold lap and leaning into every touch? Easy.

Heavy petting shared with a tyrant, hard flesh in his hand and fingers spreading slickness into him? No problem.

Slow rutting under his circumstantial partner, buried amid soft furs and pillows as a thick member buries deep to make him scream? _Bring it the **fuck** on._

Their second tryst doesn't last nearly as long as the first, Freeza content with how he sets Vegeta's climax off with his own, but it doesn't have to. For the rest of the month, at any given time each and every single day up until and even _after_ they reach their destination, Vegeta finds himself atop some surface or another, face burning as Freeza brings them both to a gasping finish. More often than not, it happens multiple times, the lizard glad to find any excuse to pin him down and indulge.

Once, they spend an entire day without ever leaving the bed.

At some point during their trip, intimacy with Freeza becomes more of a basic fact of life than something Vegeta feels he really needs to concern himself with. There's no shame, after all, in casual sex between two consenting adults, and it's not like he's doing it for any sort of reward or payment. It's simply...an effective stress relief, Vegeta decides, one that keeps Freeza pleasant and calm and for once not spouting subtle contempt for anything that happens to inconvenience him. It makes life easier, even, with how it makes the tyrant more open, willing to share anything from treats to belongings to secrets, and attached enough to where Vegeta doesn't really fear for his safety over minor slip-ups anymore.

He expects Nappa will have an aneurysm over it, but it's not like there's any real _affection_ on the prince's end, save for what Freeza imagines is there. That's just how Vegeta wants it, too, as it gives him sorely needed leverage over an otherwise unbeatable opponent. There's a seductive power there, knowing he can silence the lizard with a soft stroke over the cheek, and have his whims catered to with but a single kiss... He learns early on how Freeza craves such attention, his lord growing restless and irritable whenever Vegeta withholds it, and succumbing to the prince's touch far sooner when he bestows it with care.

That had been the easiest thing of all to discover. Every time Vegeta expresses concern for the tyrant, or deigns to offer some small show of devotion, or curls up against his lord of his own volition, Freeza relaxes in an instant. And almost every time, he fishes for more, persistent enough in his desire for adoring company that it often ends with Vegeta bare and laid out, moaning as Freeza drives him slowly and thoroughly into rapture.

That immutable fact isn't always convenient, of course. When their ship finally reaches Cooler's station, and they're told to wait for credentials to clear, Vegeta has to smooth a reassuring hand along the back of Freeza's shoulders to calm him down. He shouldn't even be surprised when that ends with them making _Cooler_ wait, instead, but as it stands, he's barely able to turn off the comm link before Freeza bends him over the console.

Vegeta's legs are still shaking with the aftershocks of his climax when he salutes to the elder tyrant, Freeza not even bothering to hide his smirk. Cooler frowns at them both in disgusted reproach, but with Kold appearing at the bay doors, massively intimidating and with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, there's no room for confrontation. The brothers simply nod stiffly to each other, and walk side by side after their father, Vegeta trailing just behind Freeza to wonder why he's even there.

He'd thought this to be a diplomatic mission, but Kold is here, and there's not a _single_ disagreement that beast can't settle between his sons. More importantly, Vegeta's presence only seems to serve as an _annoyance_ to Freeza's family.

Incidentally, he figures out that this is _entirely_ by design.

Freeza insists on Vegeta joining the three of them for every meal, and talks almost exclusively to the prince the entire time. He later patiently stands through a complex war strategy his father has been devising and expects input on, and demurs on giving it so he can ask for Vegeta's opinion first. He goes on to pull the Saiyan down a long and ornate hall to slip into dark and equally ornate living quarters, tumbling him onto the soft bed within so they can spend an entire hour avoiding responsibility. Or, as Freeza puts it for whatever reason, 'getting even', which makes a whole lot more sense later on, when Vegeta learns that the bed is none other than Cooler's.

When the elder brother is done screaming at Freeza, face nearly black with rage as he storms off, Vegeta stares into nothing for a long moment before he turns to his lord in disbelief. “Are you _trying_ to get me killed?” he asks, too overwhelmed to sound appropriately angry.

“Oh, _please_ , Vegeta,” Freeza huffs, sticking his nose up as he tucks an arm around Vegeta's waist, guiding him back to the ship. One of the many things Cooler had shrieked at his younger brother was how the two of them were to, in no uncertain terms, get the _fuck_ off his station. “I can handle these two, so have a little more faith in me, would you?”

“I have plenty of that,” Vegeta argues, disarming the lizard's annoyance immediately, “but that won't stop Cooler from _gutting_ me if you're not around.”

“That's not _funny_ , Vegeta,” Freeza sighs back, as if the prince was just making a bad joke rather than laying out a plausible scenario. Then, no doubt at some half-related thought, he smirks slyly. “Ah, yes, before I forget...I believe congratulations are in order.”

Vegeta blinks at him. “For what.”

With a lofty wave of his free hand, Freeza exclaims, “You survived your mission, of course! And when no one thought you _could_.” Hand now resting over his heart, he feigns a too-proud sigh, and Vegeta's not sure how he should feel when Freeza goes on, “Truly, I couldn't have counted on anyone _else_ for this.”

“I didn't _do_ anything,” Vegeta snaps, deciding that, actually, he's pretty upset. He even pulls out of Freeza's hold, fists clenched at his sides as he picks up his pace, fully prepared to lock himself up in his bunk as soon as he's back on the ship. He can hear Freeza tutting in disapproval behind him, and that aggravates him all the more, enough to where he spits over his shoulder, “I thought I was supposed to be _proving_ myself!”

The flat look he gets back almost has Vegeta turning to shove at his lord, something he knows won't go over well. Freeza had gotten enough of _that_ in his youth, pushed around by his older brother as he'd been, and he'd _trusted_ Vegeta with that knowledge. Using it against him now won't do any good, but the prince still fumes and growls and is right about to pick a fight he can't win when Freeza's next words shut his fury down in a heartbeat.

“You came along, didn't you? No one else would have dared.”

Vegeta has nothing to say to that, tension seeping from him as the obvious compliment sinks in, and he lets Freeza rest an arm around his waist again. After a moment to think about it, he glances over and asks dully, “So does that make me brave, or stupid?”

“You're _Saiyan_ ,” Freeza replies, without missing a beat. “What do _you_ think?” It has Vegeta laughing quietly, shaking his head at the half-assed evasion, and glad to be putting this station behind them. He'll take a month in cold space with Freeza over a week of dealing with his family _any_ day. He even admits as much out loud once they're back on the ship and taking off, and it gets him a rough but playful tug to the ear. “I should _hope_ so,” Freeza huffs, acting terribly offended, despite how it's completely undermined by the fondness in his eyes.

Pausing for effect, Vegeta turns back to the control panel. “Actually, I changed my mind,” he drawls, openly insincere. “I'll take your crazy family.”

“You won't _even_!” Freeza laughs, and scoops the prince up into his arms in short order, sneaking a quick kiss as he carries Vegeta down the hall. It's mildly irritating, being carted around this way, but with his employer in a good mood, and his constant nagging worry of impending doom left behind with Cooler's station, Vegeta can accept it. He's plopped down on a soft cushion in the common room soon enough, and teasingly asked, “ _So_ , how does being an Elite officer feel so far?”

With a bored shrug, Vegeta answers, “'Bout the same.” A slight smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “Do you carry Zarbon and Dodoria around, too, or am I just special?”

“They're administration, dear, they hardly need _my_ help, ” Freeza corrects him, and before he can muster up annoyance at that, Vegeta's mollified by another kiss, and a whispered appraisal against his ear. “But they're scarcely so brave as _you_ , Vegeta...”

Part of him is warmed by that, with the understanding that Freeza doesn't say what he doesn't mean, and Vegeta meets the next kiss he's given halfway. He already knows he's brave, but it's nice to hear it from someone so powerful, someone who isn't bound to him by loyalty alone. He tamps that thought down before it can go too far, though. It wouldn't do to become woefully dependent on such praise, the way Freeza is, much less to seek out that praise from the very person he only grudgingly tolerates.

Tolerance has gotten easier over the past few weeks, and grows easier still over the month it takes for them to return to Freeza's station. For all the contact they share, and how Vegeta is privy to whatever hushed revelations his lord dares to divulge, there's not really any situation he can't handle where Freeza is concerned anymore. Casual talk is annoying, but easy as breathing – deeper conversations are mostly one-sided, and only require him to listen – and private moments, unknown to anyone else...

Well, it's safe to say Vegeta's pretty much over the idea of shame at this point. His father would be rolling in his grave if he knew the sort of indecent things his son has consented to, and Vegeta doesn't even care. It's gotten him just about everything he's ever wanted, and not even Nappa's disapproval or Raditz's snark can make him give that up now.

For all the time and effort he'd put into his plan, and all the troubles he'd endured to see it through to an unexpected brand of completion, Vegeta is an elite officer of the planet trade, with all the rights and freedoms afforded to one of his lofty station. He can take on any mission now, no matter how dangerous or challenging, whenever and wherever he wants, up to and even beyond the moment when his power has swelled to its utmost potential. He even has Freeza – head of the planet trade and feared intergalatic tyrant – fond enough of him to grant just about anything he asks for, the very moment he asks for it. And someday soon, with everything he's gained ready and waiting at his fingertips, he'll be strong enough to wipe Freeza from existence completely, just like he's wanted to from the very beginning.

Despite everything, the many twists and turns and false starts and very near failures, fate has finally turned in Vegeta's favor.

And with that in mind, he decides all that time and effort really was worth it in the end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know what the moral of this story is. Considering the planet trade, though, it's probably best if there isn't one.
> 
> On another note, here's a fun/disturbing fact that I couldn't fit into the flow: The mating performances Kold insisted on having Freeza watch and learn from are _entirely_ related to why Freeza felt the need to get even with Cooler by fucking someone on his bed. In related news, was Cooler willingly complicit in that debacle? The answer may surprise you! (But knowing Kold, probably not.)
> 
> Speaking of which, I found the moral: Don't be a dick to your kids.


End file.
